


Death and Vanilla

by HappyDagger



Series: Requests [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Cages, Creepy Uncle Euron, Emotional Manipulation, Euron is winning, Forced Feminization, Human Pet, M/M, Mind Games, Poor Theon, Ramsay is not, Sadism, Torture, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, i guess?, monster meet bigger monster, so watch out for that shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 09:32:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6977791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyDagger/pseuds/HappyDagger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Witchesbrew wanted to see Theon treated as another kind of pet. Arkenstone wants some predator vs. worse predator. Java1 is ready for Ramsay to get taken down for once and we all seem to need more Euron/Ramsay in our lives. </p><p>Euron gets his hands on Ramsay after Jon retakes Winterfell. The stories his little nephew had torn out of him have led Euron to believe Ramsay will be perfect for relieving his... ::quirks eyebrow:: tension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dirty Wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WitchesBrew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchesBrew/gifts).



Roose had no words at his disposal fit to express the revulsion he felt. The worst thing about his mad bastard was how amusing he could be. He could stir feelings Roose has worked to suck dry. “What is this?” he said at last.

“My pretty prize.”

Lord Bolton’s nearly white eyes slid over so slowly to freeze his only living offspring. “Where did you get the silver, Ramsay?”

“It’s only _silver-plated_ , Father.” Ramsay smiled too wide with teeth too sharp, as he always did.

“And what did The Greyjoy say about him?”

“Doesn’t want him. _I think he wants me to keep him._ Still, he won’t move against us.”

“He won’t retreat either. A stalemate is no solution.” Roose walked around the cage, one silent step at a time. “Why is he… done up this way?”

“He’s beautiful. I taught him some tricks.” Ramsay wrapped his thick pale hand around a silver bar. “Pretty boy, tell Father where the supply line is.”

Theon looked up slowly, only at Ramsay. He curled his feet up onto his cushioned swing and hugged his knees to his chest. “At Flint’s Cliffs, my Lord.”

The back of his ankles were still so thick and flat. They looked and felt like clay and the X on each was Ramsay’s maker’s mark. Swirls of powder mixed into grease tickled and itched along his cheekbone, but Theon had learned not touch his face, no matter how it felt after he’d been painted. Miniscule red spiders of some kind were meticulously scraped from warm stone and brick and crushed to death as they drowned in rose petals and beeswax. Ramsay had told him so, applying the stain to Theon’s soft lips. A fine brush and jade tube came all the way from Dorne to line his eyes with kohl. _Aren’t you spoiled, pretty boy?_

Myranda braided feathers into his hair and made him a crown of flowers. She'd called him a Prince then to mock him.

“Tell father what you told me,” Ramsay cooed, pressing his forehead into the bars. How he adored his pet. Theon shuddered.

“The ship that ferries supplies from the islands is loaded with rum, the kind that makes some men go blind.”

Roose lifted his chin slightly and raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“One well-placed arrow… wrapped in cloth and kerosene…” Theon sniffed. He couldn’t shed a tear or he would ruin everything.

“I see. Draw me up a plan, Ramsay. If you brought your creature to Moat Cailin, would he turn on you?”

“Never. I caponized him to calm him. He won’t want to wander.” Ramsay stood straight but clutched the silver bar more tightly. He returned his father’s cold stare and tilted his head smiling. “He can’t flee. I clipped his wings. But he still _looks_ like the heir to the Iron Islands and he’ll sing any song I teach him.”

Roose gave a quick nod and left them.

Theon leaned back into ropes behind him and stared at the domed roof of his cage. He heard the lock pop and the door glide open and closed his eyes.

 

***

 

Ramsay woke before the torch light touched the dungeon walls and slipped the broken hinge, which he’d spent an endless blur of hours grinding against the damp stone, into his palm.

“Wake up, bastard. Someone’s here to have a look at you.”

“ _Please_ , I don’t-”

Ramsay’s eyes popped open. _Theon._ He gave up the act, forgetting his plan and rushed to his cell door. “You came to see me?” he nearly begged, too excited. Ramsay’s knuckles turned white around the iron bar. “You cut your hair?” Even in such dim light, Ramsay could see how his little bird was wretched without his Master’s care. Ramsay swallowed then scowled at the man who stepped between them.

“This must be him. He certainly remembers you. Do you miss Theon, Ramsay?”

Ramsay quickly surveyed the stranger's outline, and what he could make of his face. His mind raced over options and scenarios, there weren’t many. “Yes. Why?”

“Wonderful! Then you agree to come with us. Much better than this frozen shithole,” Euron mumbled. “It’s a deal. I’ll take him.”

Ramsay staggered back as the door imprisoning him screeched against its rusted hinges. “And what do you want from me?” He came when beckoned before receiving an answer. Theon gasped when Ramsay rushed forth to embrace him.

Euron pulled him back patiently. “Not yet.”

“He doesn’t need that turnip cart,” Ramsay said jovially and clapped his excited hands. “I’ll take him.”

“Yes, but not here. You must look like my prisoner. They expect me to execute you, drown you in our freezing stony shore. Come, try to look a man who has been imprisoned and tortured so we don’t run into any needless trouble.”

Ramsay sighed and imagined invisible bags of sand pulling his head, arms, and shoulders down, taking all his energy to carry. That’s how broken people always seemed to look.

“Better.” Euron felt his right sleeve then his left. “Ha! Clever enough.” Ramsay’s little hard-won blade was tossed into the darkness. “What do I want from you? I want to be amused and I think you’re just the monster to do it.” Euron hung his elbow around Ramsay’s neck and laughed.

Theon only stared at the black floor.


	2. Silence

Ramsay followed Euron into winter. His hands were tied behind him under his fur lined Stark leather cloak. The bastard of Winterfell was kind enough give it back so Ramsay blew him a wet kiss as he looked down from the battlements which his own Wildling savages had ruined. The dull bastard turned away. 

Ramsay's treacherous little wife never showed her cunt face at all. Maybe his child had killed her, it was the best he could hope for.

He spent two days in a rolling, bumping, much smaller wooden cell. It had a stool to sit on, a small barred window he could slide open to look through or piss out of, and he had his warm cloak to make a comfortable enough bed. He took the snow off his window sill to sate his dry mouth. But no Theon.

 

Finally, the damned thing stopped and voices could be heard. A soft yet vast roar rose and fell like sleeping breaths. They must be at the shore and now he could see Euron’s famous pisspot Silence. He practiced acting impressed in his tiny dark carriage then made the movement a few more times because that needed to be practiced as well.

A lock clicked, clicked, and whined open before the wooden door trapping him yielded to gentle sunlight and salty air. “Come, Ramsay.” The pale pirate snapped his fingers.

Ramsay gritted his teeth and slowly rolled out into the world. He stumbled back without free hands to steady himself.

Euron seemed to find that amusing. “You’ll never get your sea legs if that’s how a leisurely carriage ride leaves you.”

“Where is he?”

Euron scoffed and waved a foreign monk of some kind over. He extended his snow-white arms and took Ramsay’s pet into them. “Theon,” he chided playfully, “what _did_ you do to him?”

Theon pressed his lips together and stared far away at nothing.

“Have you set foot on a ship before? I don’t suppose your father was eager to show you off on any of his travels, was he? I’ve heard you're rather backward being lowborn. Is that true, Ramsay? Have you even seen a ship illustrated in books? Did anyone tell you about them as a child while you lay in bed? You didn’t have a Septa to wait on you, though, nor a Maester to teach you much. Did the mother you terrorized know much more than how to blackmail her betters?”

Ramsay swayed briefly, overcome by black rage.

He was able to wait until they were filed, one by one, along the narrow gangplank, then he spun to choke his guard with the very rope used so poorly to bind Ramsay’s wrists behind him. He stole the dagger from his guard's hip and shoved the gagging man hard into the crew drawing swords behind him. He kicked and stabbed his way down until he’d disposed of Euron’s escorts then turned to face the man. _“Give him to me.”_

“Well, what a fine mess you just made. If you approach me, Ramsay, I will be compelled to defend myself. Unfortunately, I’m unable to do that with my poor nephew in my arms. Do you think he can swim?”

Ramsay slowly dropped his fist and dagger.

“I mean to say because you've crippled him. I know he _remembers_ how to swim, but I wonder how well he would be able now?” Euron looked Ramsay over with his one uncovered sky blue eye and smiled."Wouldn't it be ironic if he died because of the very actions you took to keep him?"

 _“Run,”_ Theon mouthed.

Ramsay squinted, unsure of, not understanding what he’d seen.

 _“Run,”_ Theon begged, plain as day.

“What did you say, little turn cloak?” Euron mumbled, so close to his ear, Ramsay’s blood rose to boiling again. Euron gently ran the tip of his nose along the soft cartilage and flashed Ramsay a look as unmistakable as Theon’s plea. “You know how to run, but I’d bet on him swimming to shore over you fleeing, even if it is the only sensible thing to do. You aren't made of sense like your father was. How _did_ someone ever get the best of him, Ramsay?”

Euron turned and Ramsay noticed a handful of archers aiming for his chest as the sick giggling twat stole his pet away onto his rotting ship. Ramsay snarled and followed.

He was jumped as soon as he came on board and saw Theon close his eyes tightly. It took seven men to bring him down but he only managed to kill three of them before blacking out.

 

“Good afternoon.”

Ramsay sat up and bumped his sore head against more bars, another cage. He groaned and opened the eye that wasn’t swollen shut. Euron sat at his table with a fresh colorful feast laid out in front of him. Ramsay smirked, watched and waited.

“Are you hungry?” Euron asked, leaning forward.

“Yes.”

“Thirsty?”

“Very,” he lied.

“I wonder,” Euron slithered back comfortably into his chair, “would you rather join me and eat this fine food at my table, or see my poor nephew for a moment, caged like a beast as you are?”

Ramsay’s eyes rolled in frustration as he closed them, trying to contain the anger burning through him. “Theon.”

“Truly?” His long white fingers wrapped around a glass of blue-black potion. It smelled sickly sweet like death and warm like vanilla. He took off his eye patch and examined Ramsay with his blue and black stare. “You need to eat and you must drink.”

Ramsay sighed and tried to make himself more comfortable. It seemed he would be here for awhile.

“You don’t _need_ Theon… do you?”

 _“He needs me,”_ Ramsay snapped before he could stop himself.

Euron laughed and brought his nauseating drink to his blue lips. “Needs you? Who are you lying to?! Do you really hope to play on my sense of familial duty? My paternal concern, once removed? Ask my bastards if you see one, just how well your appeals may serve you. I don’t think you’re as dimwitted as people say, but you could not possibly believe your victim-”

“How do you want me to entertain you?” Ramsay said softly. “I’m an open-minded man of many talents. Why don’t you just tell me what I would have to do to see him?”

“Tell me what he did to you. That will earn you some sustenance and if you keep me entertained, I’ll have Theon serve it to you.”

“What did Theon do to me?” Ramsay echoed. He closed his eyes and wondered.


	3. Kings Road

***

Theon came to one painful intrusion into his dark confusion at a time. First, light pierced him behind his left eye then, nausea brought his body back into consciousness. A woman gasped and some boys cheered. He vomited into whatever was below him then nothingness overtook him yet again.

 

With a leisurely movement of his hand, Ramsay brought his victorious army to a halt and waved his boys over. “Do you see why I brought the wooden cage to my old friend now?”

They clearly didn’t as any sense they’d once possessed had been beaten out of their peasant skulls in battle.

“Look at the gathering  _crowd_ , you fucking cunts.” Ramsay took a pouch from Blood’s saddle and tossed it to Damon. “All of you go on ahead to celebrate the liberation of Winterfell from the putrid squids. Be sure to tell your tales at separate pubs.  Let the North know their beloved friend and protector, Lord of the Hornwood and heir to Dreadfort, is passing through with the turn cloak Prince Kraken in a cage for all to see.”

Skinner laughed then snatched the coin purse from Damon, kicking his warhorse into a furious gallop down Kings Road.

The Starks have their wolves, let them keep the useless beasts. His girls were smarter and better hunters. People only talked about the dire wolves because they were monsters and monsters command attention. Well, Ramsay was a monster, so let all the North believe he was _their_ monster; a weapon to annihilate outsiders who dared even to step in Northern horseshit without permission.

Theon groaned behind Ramsay, struggling to regain consciousness. “You…” he croaked before a coughing fit cut him off. “Why?”

Ramsay grinned. “A happy people, a peaceful father… something like that.”

The little prince sighed and gave up struggling against his bonds. “They love you,” he moaned softly.

Ramsay looked around. Yes. Yes, of course, they did.

 

“Aren’t you going to fight, you little pissant?” Alyn snapped.

Ramsay calmly put a hand on his round chest and easily pushed Alyn back. “He’s not a warrior, are you?”

Theon didn’t look up from the floor. He rarely did now.

“No," Ramsay answered for him. "He made speeches in Winterfell and tried to play a part. He’s a prince, they’re for naught but for show, you fucking louse pinching knave. Why did the Starks bring you to noble houses like mine, Theon?”

“Because I was their hostage.”

Ramsay nodded and lifted an open hand. “You see? For show. He's just my pretty prize. Go to a whore house or suck a stallion’s cock for all I care, only _get the fuck out,_ my fine lad.”

“My lord,” Alyn mumbled.

Ramsay jabbed his kidney with two knuckles when he passed. Alyn cried out pitifully. Ramsay laughed and gave his arse a kick. Then he turned his attention to Theon who was already scratching his lovely skin. “Stop that,” Ramsay snapped.

“I thought… I thought you liked me,” he said dejectedly.

That’s when Ramsay realized Theon loved him, just like those disease-ridden fuckers who got up on their tiptoes like begging dogs to watch his cavalcade. Only Theon had loved Ramsay even when the pretty idiot was tricked into thinking Ramsay was some low-born thief. “Poor dolt,” Ramsay said gently. “I do like you. Are you so hungry to be loved, Theon?”

Then his pet Prince looked up at Ramsay with an intoxicating mix of hope and heartbreak in his eyes.

 _That_ is what Theon did to Ramsay.

 

***

 

“Well?” Euron waited, tapping his spider fingers on the cherry wood table at his side.

“He’s my prize,” Ramsay replied flatly. “I won him.”

“And Eddard Stark before you, and me after. It’s a shame he’s been passed around so much. He’s still remarkably tight I fi-”

Ramsay lunged against the door of his iron cell, throwing his full weight into it. He heard a hinge whine and started kicking at it.

“Hmm.” Euron took a long draught of his choice of poison. “I’d heard you were a good liar. I suppose no one knew what questions to ask. Did your father?”

Ramsay kept working at the door with animal grunts.

“Is that why you killed him?”

“I’m going to take out your good eye with that spoon and fuck you dumb through the hole.”

Euron peered over at said utensil and pinched it between two fingers. “I’ll have to get rid of the spoon then. Do you want to see Theon?”

“Yes!” Ramsay stopped and choked the bars in front of him.

“Then answer three questions. If you’re honest, I’ll let you touch him. If you lie, you can watch me touch him. I am curious, would you hate it more if I fucked him or if I broke his lovely face? Maybe you’ll get to choose. Or maybe you’ll be able to tell the truth.”

“What. is. the. first. question?”

“Why. did. You. cripple. Theon?” Euron responded in kind.

Ramsay sank back out of the candlelight. “He tried to leave me.”

“Ah. Very good, Ramsay. Number two, why did he try to leave you?”

“I don’t know! You’d have to ask him! He said he was scared. He said he was sorry.”

“But you were so angry…” Euron mused to himself. “Why do you think he _truly_ tried to leave you? Give me your best guess and the boy will go unharassed by me tonight."

“I… he hadn’t been broken. He needed to be trained. He didn’t _understand-”_

“Let me put it to you in this manner; when you found out he was gone, what did you think then? When you first thought, ‘why’ what came to your mind?”

Ramsay paced in the shadow of his cell. “That he betrayed me. That he was lost and in danger. That I needed to clip his wings.”

“I feel like you’re lying by omission and we both know it.”

Ramsay froze.

Euron frowned facetiously. “Just when had established a good rapport. I think you realized he would rather die than spend another day with you. I think you knew then, in a searing moment of sanity, that no one could ever love you and everyone will leave you in the end. Here’s my third question; would you rather no one see Theon tonight and he sleeps safely alone? Or would you like to see him and chose how I touch him? I decided to give you this chance because you only half-lied.” Euron grinned at the rage emanating from the cell in front of him.


	4. Repent

“I want Theon.”

“You what?” Euron swirled his cup and watched the maelstrom he created.

Ramsay drew a deep, burning breath from a black corner of his cell. “Theon. I choose Theon.”

“If you can’t be polite when I extend you a courtesy, then I’ll have to withdraw them altogether.”

One nearly white, piercing grey eye appeared between two bars. The candlelight danced wildly in its center. “Please, bring me Theon.”

“Very nice, Ramsay. I’m sure it must be difficult for you mimic human behavior. Aren’t you relieved, honestly, that you don’t have to pretend to be a lord?” Euron’s grin signified that Ramsay’s opinion was unnecessary. He slid up out of his chair and strolled out of his cabin. “Think about how you want me to touch him then.”

 

When Euron came back, a few hours later, he was holding Theon to his bare chest rubbing his neat black beard into Theon’s hair. He watched Ramsay break into burning pieces and grinned. “Well? I know what I want, but what did you decide?”

“I don’t like your options.”

“Both then?”

“Neither. What if he hurts me?”

Euron’s shoulders curled in when he laughed. 

_"Would that entertain you enough for me to see him?”_ Ramsay insisted.

“Yes. Only, I’m not certain he-” a timid knock at his cabin door interrupted Euron’s fun. He carried Theon further away to open it.

Ramsay pressed his face against the bars he strangled. He ached, dreading the instant the doorway swallowed his favourite pet. Lost to oblivion again. But Theon looked over his uncle’s shoulder into Ramsay’s eyes and held his gaze and so, for the moment, he could breathe again.

Euron locked the door, looking even more satisfied with himself after the bizarre wordless exchange had, apparently, concluded. “I have to leave you soon, Ramsay. First, you’re right, my nephew should have a chance to hurt you. That is very entertaining for me, thank you.” He carried Theon to his black bed and tossed him into the waves of fur and silk.

“Stop!” Ramsay barked, frothing. “HE’S MINE! YOU SAID-”

“He’ll hurt you like no one else has.” Euron slipped out of his sealskin trousers. He was sickly white, cold and gleaming like the underbelly of a fish. “I always wondered if eunuchs get hard.”

Theon shrank and covered his face.

“No!!” Ramsay shook the bars and started kicking against the lock. _“Theon!”_

Miraculously, Theon uncovered his face and his eyes met Ramsay’s again. _Look at me,_ Ramsay mouthed.

“I was surprised when he came for me.”

Ramsay groaned as his legs began to give out underneath him. He sucked in air through his gnashing teeth and focused on his pet’s pretty face, the blue-green eyes locked onto him and focused. _You’re mine. It doesn’t matter. You’re mine._

“He gets wet now, like a girl.”

An anguished moan escaped Ramsay. He saw himself bashing his head into the bars, over and over, faster and faster, more vivid, more inevitable until-

“ _I’m sorry_.” Theon gasped when his uncle entered him. His eyes filled with tears _just for Ramsay._

 _It doesn’t matter,_ Ramsay nearly whispered. _Pretend it’s me._ Theon blinked and winced but kept his eyes locked on Ramsay's. Euron went on talking but they didn’t hear. _I missed you._

Theon’s face warmed the way it used to. His eyes grew sleepy, begging faintly, so sweet, _only for Ramsay_.

Euron fell on him like a heavy curtain sweeping across a sunny window.

Ramsay sank back and closed his eyes.

 

“Who do you love, boy?”

Using all the long-suppressed lifeforce which Theon had awakened, Ramsay blocked out the sound, the knowledge, the smell of what was happening.

“Louder. He can’t hear you, sweetling.”

He planned. He focused. His agony was rage and Ramsay’s rage is a weapon.

 

“Do you know what I am to you?” Euron asked Ramsay from across the room. “You do, you knew when you first saw me.” Euron swept his hair back and pulled his trousers on. His movements were unnaturally sure and fluid like he was dancing and delivering a death blow every time his muscles twitched. “I am your god here to judge you, bastard. Make things right with me, or live in torment for as long as it amuses me.”

He slipped a black suede eyepatch over the abomination in his skull. One blue eye shined upon Ramsay as Euron smiled, hurrying about to get ready for something on deck. “You still think Theon is your salvation. I’m gracious enough to free you from that delusion. You can repay me with a piece of flesh.”

The virus pirate paused before leaving. “I can’t wait to see how you take physical pain.” He licked his blue lips absentmindedly. ‘Fascinating. Here, little Theon.” Euron plucked a ring of keys from a small table by the door and tossed them on the bed. “I wonder how much time you have until I return?” He tilted his head with a suggestive grin and slammed the door behind him.

They both heard the lock click into place.

 

Ramsay grinned and rubbed his finger against the keyhole. It was rather on the large side, square pin, a thin bit.

“Theon,” he said softly, but firmly. “ _Throw them to me._ ” Ramsay’s arms rose from between the bars holding him, into the shivering candle light. His large, quick hands extended, bending back so slightly. “Hurry.”

Theon picked up the ring of keys only to clutch them to his chest. Ramsay caught him glancing at the door.

“ **No**. What good would that do? Are you going to crawl around the ship without me? Don’t-” Ramsay was tearing in half. _“Not again…_ ”

“I…”

The world froze.

“I’m sorry.”

“ _Don’t_ -”

“I’m sorry I left you. You left me first.”

“Theon, look at me. He wants this to be torture for us both, but it needn't be. He’ll return shortly and we don’t know which key I need, so you must **throw them to me now**.”

Theon’s head dropped. “You ruined me. You destroyed my life.” He sniffed and swallowed. “And then you forgot me."

"Not now!"

"You’re sick… as am I and… I forgive you.” Theon nodded to himself and eased more comfortably into his resignation. He tossed Ramsay the keys. "I wanted to tell you with something between us."

Ramsay let his fingers search the larger key tips in the dark and found the key he wanted on the second try. “Good boy!” He kicked the damned door open as soon as he pulled the lock out. “I never forgot you, you idiot.”

Theon’s withered calves rubbed against the sheets when he tried, rather uselessly, to back away. Ramsay’s limbs devoured him before he could even gasp.

“Mine. _My boy_. My pretty boy. I’m going to get you out of here.”


	5. The Storm

“Keep fumbling with the keys,” Ramsay whispered. He held a thin fire poker in one hand but kept scanning the room for a better weapon stuffing anything that might work into his belt.

Theon waved his hand over his head. He looked unusually red. It wasn’t right but Ramsay nodded and stood flat against the wall because all he could do was try to make this work right now.

“Theon,” his uncle laughed from the other side of the greasy black wood, “can’t you open a lock? Are your hands shaking?”

Theon beat on the door. “LET ME OUT! Please! Take it away!”

Metal penetrated metal and the handle turned. “Take what away?”

“He kept bashing his face on the bars, but I couldn’t let him out. He said I did it to him but I didn’t-” Theon sobbed.

Ramsay grew lighter and larger. His pet truly mourned and missed him, even as Ramsay stood beside him. He even started quaking and twitching as he had years ago.

Euron growled and pushed through the door. “No. I’m not done with-” he ducked and rolled away from the blow so that the candleholder only grazed his head and hit his shoulder. “Ha! Clever beast!” 

Ramsay roared and swung again, smashing his washing bowl.

Euron spun away laughing then put his hands up in mock surrender. “Very good, boy, but you don’t want to kill me yet.”

“Oh, I believe I do.”

“Ramsay. Pay attention.” He tilted his head in Theon’s direction like he was pointing out a great pair of tits to his mate.

Theon was silently vomiting foam and drool. His face was horrible strains of red and white. He could barely even choke and slammed his hand against the floor.

“Stop! STOP!” Ramsay dropped the candleholder and gripped his head. He could see himself tearing Euron apart so vividly that he could _feel_ his flesh ripping and _taste_ his black blood.

“I’m glad it didn’t take longer to return than I had planned on or else we’d all be having a much worse evening. Well? Would you like him to breathe again?”

“ **Yes!** ” Ramsay erupted.

“Then _get back in your cage_ ,” Euron said slowly and clearly.

 

Once the padlock shut, Euron knelt by his convulsing nephew and dropped liquid from a clear vial down his nose. Theon spat, choked and gasped in a small pool of his own drool and warm bile.

Ramsay rubbed his temples but kept hearing an impossibly loud and sickening fizzing sound. It must have been his own black rage making him completely mad at last. Just as Father always said he would do.

Euron clapped for their performance shaking his head incredulously. “Who’s idea was it, that story? Yours? Ramsay? Was it _your_ idea, you wicked beast?” he purred in a low, playful voice. He approached the cage and knelt to look at Ramsay then whispered in confidence, “Is that what you did when you’d found Theon had left you?”

Ramsay’s hands fell from his face and hit the floor.

“Truly? Did you try to cut yourself open? Ramsay? Did you? I want to see the scar if you did.”

_“No.”_

“You wouldn’t poison yourself, would you? You’d want something _violent_. Something he would hear about!” Euron popped up to standing and slowly circled his wheezing nephew.

“A spectacle to make your father weep! _Something_ to make _someone_ believe that you’re **_real_**. Something to look like a human because only humans and dogs matter to people and you never learned how to be a dog, no matter how much time you spend running in a pack like the fucking mongrel you are. And you had the balls to be angry when no one believed you were a **_Lord?_**  Of all things! Warden of the North! What a creature you are. What did you tell your Lord father? Did you threaten him to bring back your toy or you’d kill his only heir? Is that when he told you his Frey wife had a boy? That is how I love to imagine it. And you killed them all instead of yourself. Only it wasn’t just a pathetic, empty,”

“Stop.”

“- threat. And someone did care because even your father was a person with a soul, shriveled and dry as it was.”

“Shut up.” Ramsay swallowed and pressed back further into his cell. “The girl was stillborn. The birth ripped her poor Walda apart. My father had a heart attack when he-”

“Ha! Oh, have a drink then! You’ve earned that much with that show you put on, but your lame denials bore me.”

“You’ll poison me.”

“Perhaps.” Euron shrugged. His blue lips never stopped smiling. “Alas, you must eat and drink or you’ll die anyhow. Would you like Theon to test your meals?”

_“No.”_

Euron sat at his table and kicked off his boots. He tossed Ramsay a roll he didn’t care for and an apple he hadn’t finished. “There. Now, how can it be poisoned if I tried it for you? I think you just wanted my scraps, honestly. I’ll come to tolerate your groveling affection in time."

Ramsay roared so loudly it turned into screaming.

“Enough talk? Theon, come here and have a drink with me. You’re being overly dramatic now.” Euron pulled at his beard, staring off into the candle flame in front of him. “What piece of flesh will you offer me, Ramsay?”

“You didn’t relieve me of any delusions. He was _loyal_.”

“Hmm.” Euron glanced down to make sure Theon was attempting to obey his request then passed four white spider fingers through the flame. “Ramsay,” rolled out thoughtfully, in a low voice, “I have a position, which I think you would enjoy. I have your Theon and I can keep him safe for you.” The captain's chair scratched lightly against the floor as he stood.

Theon leaned against the table leg and held on to it with both hands.

With a lamp in hand, Euron crept to examine the dark corner of his cage where Ramsay had hidden. It was clear from his sharp, burning stare that he hid, not from fear, but in preparation. He was waiting to pounce.

“Naughty. Give me my spoon back.” 

It came sailing through the bars. Euron swatted it away before it hit his face and laughed. “I need information from some men in the hull. How would you like to get it for me?”

The defiance slowly drained out of Ramsay’s fiery features.

“Make me proud, Ramsay. You don’t have to pretend anymore. I have all the people I can tolerate, what I need is a monster.” 

Ramsay stared incredulously as the door trapping him swung open. 

“I know you won’t disappoint me, but if you do, Theon will have to make it up with me.”

“I understand,” Ramsay snapped. He stood quickly and didn’t hesitate to walk out as though the room was his.

Euron motioned toward the table Theon was hiding under. “Eat. Drink before you go about your work. Make him do the same.”

 

Ramsay came back late that evening with drops of blood splattered in thin lines across his face and chest. “It’s in the basement of the citadel. Men are waiting for you on the north shore of the Honeywine, but there are less than 100 untrained, poorly armed religious zealots. Your prisoners are ready for any other questions you may have.”

“Very good, Ramsay.” Euron ran a finger down his sharp cheekbone. “You have a special gift. I’m preparing for a raid but I’ll be back in less than a fortnight with more men for you to question. You may stay in my cabin with your pet while I’m away.”

Ramsay muttered his thanks waiting for the door to shut Euron out and lock them in.

 

Theon heard it all and closed his eyes when Ramsay opened the door to his new cage. Euron was always generous with his men. Gold didn’t matter much to him. The bars would be covered with it soon enough.

“My pretty boy,” Ramsay whispered in his ear. He smelled like Euron’s drink as his warm arms wrapped around Theon’s chest. _“Mine."_


End file.
